University of Virginia Library

To Prince CHARLES, in Aprill, 1648.

Upon the hopes of his Return.

Seems not the Sun more Glorious in his ray,
When as the Cloud that shadowed's blown away?
Is not each beam He darts then truly said,
Of triple heat after being sequestred?
The Crimson streaks belace the Damaskt West,
Calcin'd by night, rise pure Gold from the East,
And cast so fair a Dapple o'r the Skies,
That all the Air's perfum'd with Spiceries:
And shall we think when Jealousie and fear
Are out of Breath, the Day of hope's not near?
Doth it not bloom already, and untie
That stubborn knot of Incredulity?
When blossomes fall, we say our Trees are set,
But so, as may a womb of fruit beget.
Thus when the clumsie Winter doth incline
His candid Icicles, for to resigne
To Flora's beauty, and the Spring drives on,
T'oretake Maturity's perfection,
The Cold so tyrannised had o'r blood,
Is thaugh'd, and each enjoyes new livelyhood:
The Mariner meeting a stress of weather,
That with his Shrowds and Tackle shakes together
His apprehensive thoughts, till they are spent,
And nought but Death and danger represent:
With what a full Sea of content doth he
Making a Coast embrace security?
These, and much more, Illustrious Sir, become
The Issues of your little Martyrdome,
With whom all good and Loyall hearts did bring
Ambitious heat to joyn in suffering;
For Seas prove calm when as the storm is ore,
And after Cold, warmth is of Comfort more.
Best Diamonds may have foyles; mistakes have gon
To blemish; yet rais'd disposition
More splendid in esteem; no more to say,
You are the Aprill to our future May.